


the bafflement of mi5

by Skyuni123



Series: Tumblr is a Bad Influence [5]
Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber, James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Cats, Comedy, Gen, Inspired By Tumblr, James Bond fights Macavity, Mystery, the shittiest of shitposts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:28:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23110225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyuni123/pseuds/Skyuni123
Summary: James Bond runs afowl of one particular cat.It doesn't go especially well.
Relationships: James Bond & Alec Trevelyan, James Bond & Q
Series: Tumblr is a Bad Influence [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/970599
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	the bafflement of mi5

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [ this ](https://eph-em-era.tumblr.com/post/611048290393391104/the-hidden-paw) tumblr post.

“A… cat.” 

“Yes.”

“A real… animal… cat?”

“Yes.”

James Bond is completely baffled. For a man who’s usually got an ace up his sleeve, this is odd. He feels a little unbalanced, like he’s dreaming. “You’re saying that Scotland Yard has a _cat_ that they can’t deal with? They’re Scotland Yard!”

“And you’re a Double-O.” M says, with a tired shrug. “Sometimes you have to play nicely with the police.”

“I’m looking for a… cat.” James says, still baffled. 

“You’ve no missions coming up, James. What else could you be doing? You’ll be able to sort this in a matter of days, won’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” He replies, though he truly doesn’t know. 

  
  


Scotland Yard have a few leads, and he finds his way to an old dock, somewhere in the muddy and damp parts of London. 

And that’s when he spots them. 

Cats. Two of them.

One’s a scraggly monster of a tabby, ugly and with one eye missing.

The other’s a sleek black burmese, coat impossibly thin, and it seems to see into his soul as he approaches. James likes cats - for the most part, both of Q’s ginger ones are a bit bitchy - but this cat… has impossibly human-like eyes.

But it fits the description, so he approaches it. He’s got a cage, and his wits.

What he doesn’t expect is the need to dodge.

James is about a foot away when the tabby makes a bid for his ankles, slicing deep rivets across the gap between his socks and the end of his pants. He swears, stumbling, because the pain’s completely out of the blue, and the burmese uses his hesitancy to leap for his face, clawing a thick line across his forehead, down his cheek and onto his neck.

He staggers, blood dripping into one eye, and can just about see the two felines padding off into the distance, in a way that is somehow very smug.

Fuck.

Alec’s going to hold this over him for the rest of his life.

  
  


Alec laughs heartily when he hears, from somewhere within the organisation’s grapevine. He’s in Kandahar, or somewhere, and his voice crackles through the phone. “The great James Bond, taken down by two cats. I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“You still mightn’t.” Bond says irritably, and swats away the MI5 doctor who’s trying to clean the wound on his forehead.

Dr Maguire, a cynical Irish woman who Bond usually quite likes, glares at him and purses her lips, sterile wipe held in one hand..

He rolls his eyes and lets her continue with her dabbing. 

Alec is still chortling. “Unbelievable.” 

“Are you going to help me or not?” Bond continues, still irritable.

“I’m not.” Alec replies. “I hate cats. They hate me. I’d make things worse.”

“You’re a prick.” Bond rings off, but not before he hears Alec yell, “Don’t get killed. By the cats!” from the other end of the line.

Over the next three days Bond runs into the damn cat.

The black feline is plaguing him, infecting his dreams, slicing his mind to ribbons.

He hates it.

It’s also plaguing him in real life, because he sees it everywhere.

Some of the bobbies down at Scotland Yard think it’s a ghost, which is ridiculous. Others think it’s a menace, which Bond is more likely to agree with. 

“I swear he’s broken every single human law.” One bobby tells him, which is utterly absurd. How a cat would commit tax fraud or grand larceny is something he doesn’t want to think about.

“I think he can fly.” Another one says.

Considering the line of thick cuts James has along the back of his scalp, that might not be the most ridiculous of suggestions. 

He can’t believe he’s even seriously considering this. 

It’s the eve of the fourth day when James finds Q, typing madly away at something in his lab, and slumps down next to him, looking despondent.

When Q doesn’t respond in an appropriately conciliatory amount of time, James says, “Fucking. _Cats._ ”

“Macavity’s been vexing you, I take it?” Q replies, and doesn’t even look away from his computer. 

“ _Macavity?”_ James says, in the appropriate tone and pace of a curse word. “The bastard’s got a _name?_ ”

“Of course, James. He’s a cat. All cats have names.” Q hmmms, under his breath. 

“It’s a bastard.”

“The bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad’s despair.” Q hmmms again, still typing away madly. 

“The Flying Sq-” James has not been so incensed in his entire life, and that includes the time Alec bought him a prized bottle of aged whiskey and drank it all in the same evening. “You are no help.”

James stands, turns to leave, although he doesn’t really want to come into contact with the damn ca- _Macavity_ \- once again, but -

“James.” Q says, and he finally turns away from his laptop. “I never said I wouldn’t _help._ ”

  
  


James is the bait, because the cat hates him already.

James is not immensely supportive of that plan. “Why can’t you do it?”

“Mmm, well I have a reputation.” Q replies, and then refuses to elaborate. 

  
  


And so, using the power of technology (Q doesn’t explain what), and James’ flesh as bait (he gets a thick slice of skin taken off his bicep as thanks for his troubles), they catch the cat.

“Scotland Yard will be pleased to see him go.” Q says, with some satisfaction. “He’s been the source of many of their cases for _years.”_

“ _What.”_

  
  


Two nights later, James wakes up at 3.30 am to find a piece of paper blu-tacked to his forehead.

_Thank you._

It reads, in scribbly handwriting. 

There’s a pawprint on the bottom of the paper.

James throws the paper in the rubbish and resolutely decides not to think about it. 

**Author's Note:**

> my fancast for alec is jude law
> 
> hit me up on the [ tumblr ](http://eph-em-era.tumblr.com) for more of this bullshit


End file.
